


Queen of Asgard

by OkieDokieLoki



Series: Sons of the Nine [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Character Death, F/M, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Pregnant Loki (Marvel), Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkieDokieLoki/pseuds/OkieDokieLoki
Summary: The fourth part in the Sons of the Nine series, Loki and Thor are faced with a future that they couldn't plan for. Change is coming but is it all for the best?
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: Sons of the Nine [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254620
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Queen of Asgard

There was so much he regretted in his life but nothing more than the moments following his Waking. Now, he was alone. His son off on his orders. His…Monster locked away. His wife -

 _Frigga_.

It was all the Jotunn’s fault. If he had simply been obedient. If he had been cowed and reverent before the might of the All-Father.

_If I hadn’t been so blind._

His mind continued to play the events over and over, a never ending loop of pain, tormenting him forever.

 _Perhaps it’s fitting_.

He knew Frigga would not agree but he allowed it to consume him. He hadn’t moved from the spot in months, weakening. It was a fitting end, he felt.

_Nothing matters now._

_ _ _ _ _

“Mother,” he breathed, kneeling before the beautiful woman, looking up into her eyes as candles quietly lit the small room. “I need your advice.”

He blushed, his hideous hands pressing against his newly revealed bump. “I want to know everything. How does one mother a child? How did you raise us?” He met her calm, tender gaze once more, her knowing smile not revealing a single thing.

Rising from the little shrine he had made after That Day, he whispered, “How do I do this - alone?”

_ _ _ _ _

He woke with a start and a shout, praying to the Norns that no one heard. He wanted to remain as forgotten as possible, knowing that Odin blamed him for the actions of his wife. _Mother._

Breathing heavily, he rose from the bed and plodded to his sitting room, knowing rest would not find him again tonight.

The bump was growing impossible to ignore. He felt like it was huge, sticking out before him like an angular prow of a boat. His abs, so hard won, were parting before it and his bellybutton was thrusting upward like the crater of a Muspelheim volcano.

Thor hadn’t noticed only because he had been sent away, off to lead the Aesir in the glorious battles on Vanaheim. The man couldn’t stand against the will of the All-Father and he couldn’t stand aside while innocents were slaughtered. Odin had seen to that, the action that needed Thor at the front probably driven by him in some underhanded way.

After all, the longer Thor was off fighting brigands and usurpers, the farther away his coronation would be. The longer Odin would retain his weakening power. And the longer he would be confined to his rooms. ‘For his safety’. _For the supposed safety of Asgard_ , he mentally muttered. _For the murder of Frigga, All-Mother. Matricide and Regicide in one action._

He cradled his stomach in his gnarled hands, tears running down his cheeks as he thought about his unborn baby. Odin couldn’t have known about it because, if he had, he was sure that he would have lost it. And, as much as he was sure he wasn’t ready for a child, he didn’t want to lose it. _Of course, there is still time for him to find out._

_After all, Mother threw herself before me because she knew. She protected me; protected You, Child._

He squeezed his eyes shut, watching Gungnir’s point level with his chest, the shaft and head flooding with that distinctive golden All-Father seidr glow. Frigga’s eyes widened instantaneously as he wrapped his arms around his middle, his own seidr thrusting inward to save the child even if it meant more harm for himself.

Which is why he didn’t see it happen. He only heard the soft ‘Oh’ and the sound of a body hitting the ground before him. It was echoed by the resonating ring of metal on metal. When he had raised his head, he was met by the shocked face of Odin and the still body of his mother, collapsed between them.

The All-Father was trembling, Gungnir forgotten on the ground, his gaze on the woman before him. He moved, kneeling beside her, his seidr playing at his fingertips to determine what needed to be done.

“Don’t you _touch her,_ ** _Monster!_** ” the man bellowed, “Get OUT!”

The man gestured wildly, all of the assembled looking shocked at his mental collapse. “ _I can’t stand the sight of_ ** _you_** _any longer!_ ”

A gentle hand on his shoulder turned him from the fallen form of Frigga. Nanna breathed in his ear, “Come. Let’s go to your rooms.”

And he had remained there ever since, unsure of what else to do.

He gazed out over the fields beyond the balcony off the empty bedchamber with his empty bed that he longed to share with his husband. It was peak harvest, the farmland painting the countryside and gardens in color. It was beautiful. He rubbed his stretching skin with his twisted hands, calming the child beneath the surface.

It had recently begun to move about within him with enough energy that the babe’s motion was distraction and a comfort. His lips twitched into a smile as his eyes closed, wishing he could see his beloved oaf of a spouse instead of the darkness behind his eyelids. Sighing, he settled further into his chair and allowed sleep to take him.

_ _ _ _ _

_The All-Father glowered down at them, every eye of the Thing taking on a hostile gleam because of their father’s stance. Gungnir seemed to hum with power as Odin’s eye flashed with disappointment and hatred. He had not seen that expression on his father’s face ever. Not even when he had discovered him in the arms of his not-brother._

_Loki, in his perfection, strode beside him with his chin high, horns catching the lights, and his gnarled hand confidently in his grasp. He knew that the All-Father would be angry that he had survived. He knew that Odin would find a way to make their marriage difficult. But, no matter what, he couldn’t see himself leaving the Jotunn beside him. Not after everything they had been through. Not after everything they had accomplished. Not after they had changed Asgard._

_“Thor. My son. My heir,” Odin intoned, his voice simultaneously full of venom and lacking emotion. “Your time as Protector of the Realm has been fruitful if not unconventional.”_

_The man’s single eye flashed to the being who’s hand he held. “I see_ **_you_ ** _survived Muspelhiem.”_

_“I am a survivor, Odin-King,” his husband stated, “And I love my husband. We will always be there for each other. No matter what.”_

_The older man’s mouth drew into a firm line. “I see.” The single eye narrowed and Gungnir hummed. The All-Father’s attention turned back to his heir. “How could you love a_ **_traitor_ ** _and a_ **_monster_ ** _, my son?”_

_He took a step forward, his hand leaving Loki’s for the first time since they’d left the training arena. “Loki is not a monster, Father. He never was and will never be. He is everything that Asgard and the Nine need in a ruler and he is my chosen spouse. Forever.”_

_The All-Father had simply looked at the pair of them for a long moment after that, saying nothing and looking disgusted. Suddenly, the old man sat bolt upright, his eye widening and his grip on Gungnir tightening. His focus shifted, laser-like onto him. Loki squeezed his hand, his fear apparent._

_“My Son,” the King of Asgard intoned, “You must go to Vanaheim. There has been an attack on a village there. They were caught unaware. Gather you men, you leave within the hour. Do to return until everything is made right.”_

_Dumbfounded, he bowed his head, pressing his fist over his heart. Loki dropped his hand to do the same. “As you wish, All-Father,” he said, turning to take his leave and follow his orders. “Prepare for battle, Loki.”_

_“The Jotunn stays here,” Odin commanded, his voice low and menacing. “Women do not belong in battle.”_

_“Women,” his lover hissed, his teeth clenched._

_Turning back to face the throne, he said, “Loki is my battle-partner. I cannot go without him.”_

_“You can and you will,” his king said. “If anyone were to see a_ **_thing_ ** _so_ **_hideous_ ** _, they would attack. Surely you don’t want your_ **_wife_ ** _dead?”_

_Wanting to retort, he took a step forward, only to have his arm grabbed by sharp, sable claws. “Leave it, Thor. I will do what is expected of me. Do what is expected of you.”_

That had been the last word his husband had spoken to him in weeks. He had done exactly what was expected of him. He had left Asgard literally from the Throne Room, going to Vanaheim by orders of his king and praying that his obedience was the right thing to do.

Today, however, he had finally caught the brigands unaware. They had fallen before him, the Warriors Four, and their troops. Now, he could go home. Now, he could be with Loki, whom he had wanted by his side through this whole ordeal. His absence was like losing his shadow, and, in some ways, he had.

“Thor?”

The soft voice of the Lady Sif drifted through his train of thought like a dream, shaking him from his one-track mind. Turning away from the flickering flames of his evening cook fire, he gave his oldest friend a smile. “Sif! Come join me!”

The woman nodded, taking a seat beside him on a log. “Are you glad to be going home? To your _husband_?”

The warrior nudged him playfully, grinning broadly at him before adding, “My _King_.”

He smiled back. “I never want to be without him at my back again. I dislike being without my sorcerer.”

Sif sighed, “This whole predicament would have been over so much sooner if we had had Loki.” She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you think that that is why the All-Father kept him away?”

He shook his head, his gaze falling into the flames once more. “No. Odin is wise in many ways but he is blind to the needs of his own family. He does not see that Loki is exactly who I need by my side, exactly what Asgard needs to thrive.”

“I pray that you are right,” the shield maiden replied, her own gaze focusing on the leaping flames.

_ _ _ _ _

There was one thing missing from his triumphant return to the Golden Realm and the capitol city: his husband. He put on a broad smile and waved to the crowds, wishing that they could move faster only to discover, at the steps of the palace, that Loki was not allowed to greet him before the populace. By Odin’s command.

He swallowed his disappointment as the words were whispered in his ear by Nanna, and his arm was embraced by Balder. He fixed his father in a steely glare as he knelt, Mjölnir at his side.

The King smiled, opening his arms as he addressed the crowd, “This is a happy day! A joyous day! Asgard, with my son, has brought peace to the Nine Realms once more! Let us feast!” The man looked down at him, his voice lower as he continued, “This is what it means to be a warrior king. Rise, my Heir, and remember this.”

He obeyed, his jaw set. “This is your dream, Father. Not mine.”

With that, he set his gaze about to find his mother also mysteriously absent. Pressing his lips together, he pressed a tender kiss to Nanna’s cheek and said, “I must see my husband. I am sure he worries after me.”

Striding through the celebrating crowd was difficult and it took him far longer than he wished. He drank toasts with his men, kissed their wives or partners or concubines and laughed at jokes, all the while moving further into the palace and away from the festivities.

Once he left the main halls, he was able to quicken his pace, racing for the rooms he shared with Loki. The sunlight danced off the gold filigree and the polished marble, his stride bouncing off the floor with a spring that he had only when he thought of where he was going. The large oak doors loomed before him, bringing him closer to his heart until he realized that he was not alone in the hallway.

Two Einherjar, armed to the teeth stood guard over the doors, their faces grim and their spears at attention.

As he drew nearer, he addressed them as authoritatively as he could manage. “What brings you here, to my rooms?”

“Orders of the All-Father,” one golden-clad soldier reported, not meeting his gaze. “No one in or out.”

He laughed, even as fear crept into his viscera. “Well, that won’t do, will it? I have had a long campaign and all I wish for is a shot hower and a nap.” He cocked his head, his arms opening plaintively even as Mjölnir leapt into his right hand. “Surely that can be arranged?”

The two men looked at each other, their eyes silently debating. Slowly, they each took a step to the side, giving him free access to the door.

“My thanks, Gentlemen,” he stated, smiling as he gave them a jovial salute and pushed the doors open.

Moments after he stepped through, they slammed shut behind him, the resonance echoing about the marble chamber.

“Loki!”

There was no answer, the silence crushing him. _Norns, this is what Loki has been subject to for the past couple months_ , he noted, striding further in. It was disconcerting to know that his husband had been confined in his absence, especially when Loki had been among the Aesir so openly since their marriage.

The rooms were eerily quiet and almost untouched; a candle nub there, a book on a chair here. It was as if nothing had happened for all those months when he was away. His steps led him through the apartment, his eyes scanning for any sign of life when he saw it: a shrine.

The portrait was one of his favorites. His mother beamed at him days after the pronouncement that she was pregnant with him, her golden hair streaming loose in an invisible breeze, her face alight with an inner magic that he couldn’t place. The candles about it still smoldered. They had been recently lit.

His heart thudded in his chest, turning to lead as he realized why his mother was not beside Odin. _She’s gone. Passed to Valhalla._ Another thought struck him in his gut. _Where is Loki?!_

His heart racing, he picked up his quest anew. As each room was searched, he drew a conclusion that he prayed was right: his husband _must_ be bathing. He couldn’t blame the man, knowing how hot Asgard was in comparison to Jotunnheim. His banishment to the fires of Muspelheim seemed to make him even more sensitive to the heat. He clearly recalled the months of Loki’s petulant stomach, unable to eat because the heat drove him to be ill.

Slowly, aware that any loud noise could cause his husband to take fright after being alone for so long, he tread to the closed door. The spray of the water and a faint sound of tuneless humming reached his ears. He smiled, remembering how his lover would hum while he played with his hair in the after glow of sex. _Norns, I’ve missed him_ , he mused, biting his lips before cautiously grasping the knob and turning it. The door swung inward to reveal the man he loved standing beneath the spray of their spacious waterfall shower.

Loki appeared to be lost in thought. His head was bowed, his shouldered hunched. It drew his gaze to his lover’s majestic horns and wild tangle of thick, ebony hair. His eyes pulled downward, following the sharp line of his husband’s right arm to find his large, gnarled hands cradling his abdomen. His distended and rounded abdomen.

“You’re _pregnant?_ ” he breathed, shocked and so incredibly happy, all of his worries flying in the face of the beautiful scene before him.

Feral ruby eyes snapped to the door, widening in terror as he spotted him - looked at him - for the first time in over two months. “ ** _Thor!_** ”

Trembling surprise was laced through the breathed statement. Deformed hands covered the baby bump as if trying to hide it. The image broke his heart.

He closed the distance between himself and his husband, his arms wide and his grin unconfined. Loki’s eyes widened, and he took a few steps back, retreating into the spray of the shower, his head shaking. “ _Thor?_ Is that truly you? I’ve dreamed of you for so long…”

“Loki, I’m here! I love you, so much!” He took another, hesitant step forward. The Jotunn flinched, his eyes narrowing. He stopped, hand extended. “ _I love you_.”

He stood there for Norns knew how long, his hand extended to his frightened lover, tears trailing silently down both of their faces. He watched the navy man, his features shifting through emotions rapidly even as his hands continued to tremble and shake. He wanted to comfort him, to hold him, but he knew that Loki needed to be willing to take it. He needed to be willing to be loved even if he didn’t love himself.

Slowly, his husband began to sob. One of his hands, twisted with his adverse reaction to Musepelheim’s heat, brushed his offered fingertips. “ _Thor_.”

He took the invitation, grasping those cool, clawed fingers in his hand and slowly bringing it to his lips. The phalanges twitched on contact but made no effort to withdraw. Smiling, he looked up to meet those impossibly deep scarlet eyes and murmured, “I love you. And only you. Forever.”

Loki continued to sob, his face twisted into an expression that he couldn’t place, his other hand still cradling the protrusion that was his abdomen. “ _Why?_ ” he choked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, chuckling, “The Norns may know but I certainly don’t. I _only_ know that I love you.”

He slowly pulled the shaking, distorted form of his husband into his arms. The rounding of the cold, wet abdomen pressing against his own toned stomach was strange but he kind of liked it. His hand cradled the back of Loki’s head, holding it against his collarbone, above his heart, while his other hand rested on the other man’s lower back. “I love you.”

The other man inhaled shakily before he stammered, “I love you, too. I’m so glad you’re finally home with us.”

_ _ _ _ _

His shock at seeing his husband faded as Thor’s warmth flooded him. He was shaking, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it terror? Was it relief?

The child rolled between them, pressing outward towards the heat that Thor provided.

“How?” his husband breathed, his face curious even as he continued to smile.

“You know how, Thor,” he replied, muttering a bit, embarrassed even as he knew that he shouldn’t be. “It was our wedding night. You’re devastatingly effective.”

The blonde laughed, tossing his head back as his teeth caught the light of their gilded bathing chamber. The action shook him further, rocking him as another, painful thought shot into his mind. Before he could stop it, words tumbled from his lips. “Mother was protecting it. She knew - _she always knew_.” His voice fell away to nothing as Thor’s laughter abruptly died.

“ _What?_ ”

The question was barely breathed, so much softer than a whisper, he could hardly believe that the usually boisterous and brash Thunderer had asked it.

Inhaling shakily, he murmured, “Odin…sent you away. Tried to…kill me. And Mother leapt before Gungnir. She saved me and our child.”

Hot water was falling on him now, thick band-like arms pulling him into his husband’s chest, giving him the permission to properly mourn. He knew that they both owed Frigga so much and she had revealed that to them in her final act before departing for Valhalla.

_ _ _ _ _

Whether it was the distant sight of her two sons, arms about each other with Loki’s growing abdomen clearing the path before them, or the fact that he had never recovered from his stand-off with his children, her husband was fading.

Since Thor’s return, he had retreated from most of his public duties, opting, instead, to sit in his private study with his treatises and writings, mourning her. Thor began to take a bigger role in the day to day governing activities, his husband remaining in the safety of Bylskirnir giving her second son support and advice every step of the way. Thor made their presences known but became overly cautious and hesitant in his (and Loki’s) views and ideas when the All-Father was present. It broke her heart that her family was so divided. It hurt to see the how Thor glared at the King and how Loki flinched and how Odin did nothing.

She longed for a reconciliation between them but knew, in her heart of hearts, that she was not going to witness it. There was a glimmer of hope but, as Odin’s inner light began to fade, his time drawing near, it began to flicker and die. Instead, she only hoped that her own heart could reconcile with her husband when he joined her, far from Asgard and his seat of power.

_ _ _ _ _

He wasn’t sure what to feel. The man had raised him and his husband but had hated him so fervently at the end of his life that he couldn’t imagine that Odin had ever loved him. Now, he was gone.

Apparently, the last push of seidr that the All-Father had expended in the punishments he and Thor had received plus the confrontation with Hela had pushed Odin over the edge. The vindictive old man who had hated him so much that he had used the last of his waining strength to try to dispose of him, killing his own wife instead, had fallen asleep one night and slipped away quietly.

He had gone to the funeral though he had refused to stand before the crowd, taking a place in the back. He had been too ashamed of what he had become - what Thor had married -and that he had not been good enough to attempt forgiveness with a man that loathed him, to go into such a public forum as the future ruler of the realm. Thor had gone, standing proudly in his finest raiments beside their sister, brother, and sister-in-law, the good son and heir to the last.

Now, the month-long waiting period was over and Thor would be crowned King of Asgard. He couldn’t hide any longer. Everyone, from all Nine Realms, would see him in his terrible, post-Muspelheim glory. He was terrified.

He closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth as he sat, legs spread, on the edge of the bed he shared with his husband. He could feel the heat rolling off of Thor and peaking through the curtains behind him and he shivered, feeling uncomfortable. Of course, it was not something he was unused to. He simply knew it was about to get worse.

He rose, trying not to shake the mattress as he eased his nearly seven months pregnant frame from the bed. Thor had a long day and he needed as much sleep as he could get. They would have a lot of sleepless nights ahead of them, between the baby and the throne.

He sighed once more at the thought, pausing outside the washroom door. He glanced at his hand as it rested against the door frame. His knuckles were large and his fingers were twisted into extensions of his claws. He allowed a finger to trace one of his scar-like ridges, feeling the rise and fall across his rough skin. He sighed again, walking into the hall of mirrors that was their shared bathroom.

His reflection was frightening, if not a bit intimidating. Running his hands over his arms before they fell to his inflated stomach, he walked under the spray of the shower. He preferred to be clean before he stood before the people as the first Jotunn ‘Queen’ in nearly eleven thousand years.

The child tumbled about within him and he greeted the movement with a tender touch, rubbing the protruding foot with one of his hands, lathering the blue expanse with his pine scented soap before wandering over the rest of his changed and changing body and through his growing tangle of hair. His claws made quick work of the snarls even if they dug into the ridges carved into his scalp. He didn’t mind. Somehow, Thor still loved him. _Norns knew why_. The thought made him smile.

Stepping from the spray, he toweled his increasingly awkward body dry and wrapped his long hair into a towel, propping it between his horns. Up and out of the way. Inhaling to steady himself, he looked at his reflection, trying not to feel self-critical.

His body had not been his since his return to Asgard. Between his imprisonment and punishment, he had grown the thick, goat-like horns that were cumbersome and a bit frightening along with the almost reptilian change to his hands (and less noticeably, his feet) and the thickening of the ridges that chased his frame. Then, after being reunited with Thor, he had been driven to fulfill the terms of his true brother, Helblindi’s treaty. The baby was evident, pushing his abdominals out with increasing effort. Soon they would part like the pages of a book. If that was not enough, his chest ached and his nipples seemed to be growing and becoming increasingly sensitive. “Nothing will ever be the same,” he breathed, pulling a glamour about his body in a moment of vanity, ridding his frame of everything but the bump and the horns (which he was beginning to like - not that he’d admit it aloud).

“Now _that_ is the most powerful sorcerer in the Nine Realms!”

Thor’s proud pronouncement alerted him to the presence of his husband before he opened his eyes to find the most handsome man in all the Worlds leaning against the door jam, his bulky arms folded over his bare chest. “I know why you’re doing this, Loki, but I want you to know that I love you no matter what you look like.”

“I know,” he replied, giving the man a small smile before turning back to the mirror. Minus the horns, he looked more like himself. “But I needed to see this. For me. And my vanity.”

“I know,” the Thunderer replied, moving to stand behind him and wrapping his arms about his body, their warmth coming to rest over their squirming child. He pressed a kiss to his neck, making him shiver. Sighing, he released his altered figure. There was no point in maintaining it, seeing as most of Asgard had already seen glimpses of him as he was. His own hand, done wielding his magic, rose to cradle Thor’s bearded cheek.

After a moment, he broke their little embrace, sliding down the countertop to begin plaiting his hair. “How are you?” he asked, tugging the towel from his ebony locks and beginning to run his comb through the thick sheets.

The other man shrugged, licking his lips before shoving his toothbrush into his mouth. Loki smirked, continuing his work. The image in the mirror was something that he could live with. The horns reminded him of his old helm even if they were larger and a bit more cumbersome. The rest of him was nearly the same, just a bit more rugged about the edges - _If I squint._

Thor continued his toilet beside him, his strong yet nervous presence bringing him comfort. As he finished his hair, easy waves greased back from his brow until they met in a low braid at the base of his neck, he eased back away from the counter and ambled from the washroom, drifting past Thor with a wink and a tender caress. The last thing he saw before exiting the mirrored room was his husband’s bright smile, boosting his confidence once more.

Humming lightly under his breath as he moved into the walk-in closet, his twisted hands rubbing his stomach once more, he couldn’t help but smile. Once he had allowed his pregnancy to become known, he was much happier. He was actually looking forward to being a parent, to holding his child in his arms. He was not nearly as upset at his changing figure as he thought he would be, but, then again, he had changed in more ways than he had imagined. Besides, he couldn’t feel anything but love as soon as he felt the little thing move within him for the first time. It had helped him get through the depression and fear that resulted in his mother’s untimely, sacrificial death and Thor’s quasi-banishment.

Thor’s heavy footsteps drew nearer, bringing the King of Asgard into their shared closet. Aware that he was quite bare, he flushed a bit, and pulled his exquisitely crafted loincloth from the rack.

“You look amazing, Loki,” the Thunderer said from behind him. “Are you pleased?”

He smiled, turning to face the man he loved and taking him in. He was truly every inch the ruler of the Realm of the Gods. “So do you, my Handsome King,” he grinned, giving the man a mock bow, his waist not bending quite like it used to. As he straightened, he grinned crookedly. “And, no, I am not pleased. But there is truly little I can do about my appearance unless I concoct an incredibly intricate and complex glamour.” He paused, cocking his head as he sat, slowly sliding his loincloth up his legs, embarrassingly the only way he could reach his feet. “What do you think about that?”

Thor pulled his own clothing from the stand before giving him an earth-shattering smile. “I have no say in what you wish to look like, Loki. I love you, no matter what.” The man tugged his tight breeches up his fit legs, tucking his impressive package behind the laces even though it was not completely uninterested. “I simply want you to be happy. Besides that, I have everything I need.”

“Oh?” he queried, cocking an eyebrow was he eased his bulk up from the chair and grabbed his finest, Frigga-woven cloak from the hanger. As it settled about his shoulders, he could almost feel her arms envelop him in one of those hugs that he desperately missed. He smoothed the fabric tenderly, his rough hand a sharp contrast to the fine fabric. “And what is that?”

“You. By my side.”

He could feel his cheeks flush as he met Thor’s gaze. It was filled with love and dancing with a lusty spark. He was truly lucky, a monster such as he was, to have Thor. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

The king snorted, not answering his, admittedly rhetorical question. Instead, they both dressed in comfortable silence, sealing their love with a kiss.

“Shall we?” he breathed, inches apart from his lover, their child between them.

Thor grabbed his right hand, his thumb teasing the ragged ridges there. “We shall,…my Queen.”

“Thor…”

“Fine!” the man chuckled, leading him into the hallway, “My King?”

He shook his head. “I am not a king. A general - yes. An ambassador - of course. A prince - in the eyes of some. But never a king.”

His husband smiled. “Prince it is.”

Shaking his head once more, he chuckled, “Whatever you wish, my King.” Smirking, he moved closer to his husband, bumping him gently with one of his rounding hips before pulling him to a stop. Walking to stand before the man that he loved more than anything in this world, he watched the blonde’s eyebrows furrow. Taking his free hand from his stomach, where it had taken to resting, he slipped it along Thor’s bearded cheek to cup his neck. It was an intimate gesture that they had shared many a time since their youth and he continued it, gently moving their head closer until their brows (well, one brow and two horns) touched. “Thor. I love you and I am so proud of you. You are going to be a great king.”

He felt the man’s hot exhale on his face and down his neck. “I can’t do this without you. I realized that long ago.”

“I know,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I realized that a long time ago, too.”

Leaning in, the babe pressing itself along his abdominals as he did so, he leaned into Thor’s chest and tilted his chin. The Thunderer took the hint and captured his thin lips with his own, warming, giving pair. He allowed himself to get lost in it. There was too much despair in the last few months that he needed to remember why he had done this. He needed to remember why Asgard. _Thor. It was always Thor, the oaf._

He slowly stepped back, his hand lingering for a few extra moments before it fell to cradle his growing bump. “Shall we?” he huffed.

Thor smiled at him, taking his hand once more. “We shall.”

_ _ _ _ _

He was so grateful that he no longer had to walk into the great throne room of Asgard alone. He was a sight, he knew, and so did the populace. He couldn’t imagine facing their scrutiny alone in that immaculate gilded chamber. Instead, he held Thor’s left hand, their steps syncing perfectly together, striding towards the future.

He had to relinquish his grasp as they reached the foot of the steps. Moving with practiced and precise ritual, he moved to stand off to the left, turning inward to face his now kneeling husband. The baby within him thrashed, reacting to the butterflies that were currently inhabiting his stomach, and he attempted to sooth it with a gnarled hand. A small slice of shame lanced through him but it was quickly banished as he proudly watched Thor become King.

Balder and Nanna stood opposite him, beaming proudly with their hands interwoven, their own joy becoming infectious. Above him, like an honor guard, stood the Warriors Four, their finest armor on and their weapons shining in the brilliance of the sun. They too were happy, their valiant shield brother was finally stepping into the role that he had been promised since his birth.

Thor, in sharp contrast, seemed nervous and somber. _Good, he realizes how important this is. How he will no longer be responsible only for us and our little family but for all of Asgard and the Nine Realms._ He could feel his pride swell within his bosom at the thought, knowing that he had an infinitesimal part in getting Thor to where he was: kneeling before the High Priest of the Norns and repeating the sacred oath for all to hear.

_ _ _ _ _

He could feel his aura change as the words that he had practiced for most of his life came to fruition. A heaviness settled about his shoulders with each ‘I swear’ and a new found nobility graced his features. _“Heavy lies the head that wears the crown.”_ The phrase played through his mind, recalling the work that Loki had made him read centuries ago when he had been on a kick of Midgardian literature. _Back when he was trying to groom me into the ruler he wanted to see. Now, I realize that I will never be an ideal ruler, but I can strive to become like the men Loki wanted me to be._ As the circlet settled over his slight waves, he could feel the weight. It was more than just physical and he allowed his eyes to open and flick to Loki.

The Jotunn’s expression was filled with a mixture of emotions but was eclipsed by a pride that he swore he would see as often as he could. To know that his husband had chosen to wed him, to help him, in this new journey of his life, changing his own life in the process, meant more to him that anything. Tears, like jewels clung to his ridged cheeks even as he smiled, his lips pressed together to give him a dignified instead of savage look ( _For the public’s benefit, not mine_ ). Loki knew that he loved his fang-filled smile, and, as if he sensed his train of thought, the younger being flashed him his pearly whites for a split second.

“Rise, King Thor Odinson, first of his name, All-Father of the Nine Realms.” The words from the High Priest brought him back to the present and he obeyed, standing.

The crown on his brow felt heavy and he was worried about toppling over with the weight of it. Slowly, he turned to face the crowd. Mjölnir came to his right hand, sparking with lightning. Balder moved to his left hand, giving him Gungnir, the power of the All-Father within his grasp.

The cheers that greeted him were not unwanted or unwarranted but felt strange. He felt alone for the first time in his life. Full of power but so alone.

Turning, no doubt shocking his subjects, he turned to face his husband. Loki’s face was still shining with tears even as his lips parted in surprise as he watched him break royal protocol. His first act as King was an act of rebellion.

“Prince Loki,” he intoned, his voice ringing through the whole hall and beyond even though he hadn’t tried to project it at all.

His husband’s brow knitted, waiting for what he was going to say. Instead of opening his mouth, he simply extended Gungnir to the Jotunn.

The silence that stretched between them was palpable. It was then that he realized that the last time Loki had seen the weapon, it had been aimed at him. About to kill him and their unborn child - the child that still dwelt within him. It was the weapon that had murdered their mother.

Slowly, hand trembling, his husband put his hand on the spear, his fingers wrapping hesitantly on the shaft. “My King,” his husband murmured, his brow knit.

“I, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, proclaim Prince Loki Laufeyson, my consort, my equal. Co-ruler of Asgard and the Nine Realms. All-Bearer of the Nine.”

The Jotunn’s mask crashed down about his features as he lost control for a moment. It wasn’t that Loki didn’t know it was coming - they had discussed being equals, of bringing about change through their incredible and improbably union - It was as if the azure man had wondered if it was all for show or if he, himself, was ready to be back under the eye of the public. It was a large step, a monumental step, and Loki, being who he was, would take it. Even if it terrified him.

Before them, the crowd cheered.

_ _ _ _ _

The golden spear leaned against the doorframe of their shared study, glinting in the late afternoon sun. It twinkled, bright with promise despite the blood it had spilled.

He wasn’t entirely sure why Thor had offered it to him. He had used staves and spears before but preferred knives and close quarters. Now, with the child filling him, he doubted that the spear would see battle in his lifetime. _But, the seidr it possesses,_ he mused, his lips quirking upward as he continued to gaze at it. He recalled how his fingertips tingled at the sensation, how it had flooded into him the moment he had touched the surprisingly cool shaft.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He was roused from his revery by the soft sound of his husband’s voice. With a little jump, his head swiveled to look at the blonde with a soft smile. His hand rubbed the stretched skin of his abdomen but he ignored the occupant beneath to answer the question posed. “I was simply thinking about Gungnir and how giving her to me seems like an odd choice. I rarely use weaponry with such a long reach and her seidr…it is quite tempting, Thor, but it does not belong to me. It is the seidr of the All-Father!”

Thor, smirking as he watched him rant, chuckled. “Ah, but Mother wielded it, too. And you are All-Bearer of the Nine. I have proclaimed it so. Besides,” the man gestured idly, “I have Mjölnir. I do not need another weapon. You, dear Husband, could use the seidr better than I could anyway. Take her and I know she will be used well.”

Sighing, he dropped the subject in the face of Thor’s argument. The blonde was his superior, even if he claimed that they were equals, and he was not about to argue. He had missed the man so dearly that squabbling over anything seemed petty. Instead, he offered the man one of his twisted hands. “Sit with me,” he purred.

The Aesir, taking his hand, obliged. His warm body slipped beside him on the settee, his thick, muscled arm around his shoulders. “Of course,” the King of Asgard murmured, “Anything for you.”

Warm lips pressed themselves to his temple beside the thick base of his right horn. He leaned into the heat, enjoying it immensely. Thor was clearly not upset by his chilly exterior because he leaned the side of his head against his cheek and slowly slid his hand across the globe-like expanse of his stomach. “How is our little one?” he asked, his voice soft. “Is the future ruler of Asgard behaving?”

The statement struck him. Turning slightly, he looked at his husband with a wry smirk. “How do you know that I carry the heir of Asgard?” He cocked an eyebrow. “This child could be a girl - or a Jotunn. One capable of bearing young. You saw what happened to our sister, what Odin tried to do to me. Bartered brides, the pair of us.”

Thor was not taken aback by his statement, however. Instead, the man simply rubbed his exposed stomach more fervently, his gaze following the tracings of his hand. “I care not for what Father did, or even what Grandfather did! _This child_ shall rule Asgard, regardless of tradition. The firstborn shall be my heir.”

“And any others?” he queried, well aware that his rift with his family came partially from his position as fourth child of Odin.

The question had clearly caught his husband on his heels as he watched blonde eyebrows shoot up his noble brow. The hand on his ever-growing bump stilled. His eyes, limitless blue pools, met his own ruby orbs with such a longing and earnestness that he was slightly surprised. “You would have another child? Or more?” his husband practically choked, clearly shocked.

His brow furrowed, pulling at his horns. “You would not?” He sounded accusatory and hated that he did, but his insecurities regarding his appearance swept to the fore. His clawed and twisted hands contracted over his abdomen, dragging lines over the expanse.

He fixed Thor in a pointed glare, his eyes narrowing even as his voice trembled. “How can you stand to touch me?”

Thor looked like he had slapped him, his jaw hanging open as his eyes flooded with tears and his hot hand was withdrawn as if his abdomen was suddenly on fire.

“How-how can you ask me that?” the King breathed, his usually strong voice quivering. “You’re my husband.”

Unable to stop himself, he inserted firmly, “Yes. Though you clearly wed me out of pity. You saw the populace today, the disgust on their faces. Knowing that their king wed a monster. Knowing that they will be co-ruled by a hideous half-thing and it’s offspring.”

Hands, shockingly hot, grabbed his deformed hands fiercely. “Stop this, Loki! Stay this madness! You are incredible and you are perfect in my eyes, regardless of what you look like. Regardless of what this child or any child of our looks like. _I love you_. And this child. _I don’t care_ what anyone else thinks. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone searching for you in the first place.”

“ _Searching for me?!_ ” he spat, pulling his hands away once more. “You didn’t _search_ for me! You ran to Midgard and built a nice little life there. _I found you_ , you blundering oaf! A good thing I did, too, or else you’d have been a burnt crisp on a sidewalk on Midgard months ago!”

Hefting his increasingly bulky frame from the sofa, he stormed away, unable to deal with his husband any more for the time being. Even as he attempted to storm away, guilt sliced through his viscera. He had no right to be taking his anger out on Thor about his own insecurities, his own vain weaknesses, but he had lashed out anyway. His husband didn’t deserve the abuse. _Odin was right: I truly am a monster._

Thor had other ideas as he quickly caught up to him by the hand and spun him around so rapidly, that he crashed, full-bodied into the other man. The force of their collision set the child within thrashing, battering his insides so fiercely that Thor gasped, “I can feel it!”

His hideous frame was pulled closer, thick arms wrapping themselves tightly around him, pressing his abdomen against the abs of the King of Asgard, allowing him to continue to feel their active child. Thor tucked his head against his shoulder, his warm breath playing across his neck and collarbone as hot, wet splotches fell along his shoulder. It was then that he realized that they were both crying. His icy tears clung to his craggy cheeks, his hands trembling as he grasped the back of Thor’s tunic like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, burying his own face into the Thunderer’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh,” the taller man breathed, his hands rubbing his exposed back, “Don’t be sorry. I’m here. I always will be. No matter what.”

As their tears ran their course, he slowly eased his grip and stepped out of Thor’s equally tight grasp. “I love you,” he murmured, leaning in to capture Thor’s lips with his own.

“I love you, too,” his husband replied, before sealing his words with another kiss.

_ _ _ _ _

 _They say that the best part of fighting is the making up_ , he mused, snuggling a bit more into the lean, cool back of his husband. His right arm curled over the man’s torso, snuggling between the Jotunn’s developing breasts and his swelled abdomen. The child beneath the azure flesh was quiet, allowing Loki to continue to sleep as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

He knew that their fight was not entirely resolved. Loki was clearly upset about his exterior, namely his gnarled hands and feet and his harsh ridges, plumped up as a defense mechanism against his prolonged exposure to the heat on Muspelheim. He would be lying to himself if he hadn’t found the changes to the man frightening at first. Now, he saw them as badges of honor, hard won and earned in battle. They made his husband look rugged, a man not to be trifled with. They made him no less incredible, no less amazing, no less astonishing, and, even if the Jotunn didn’t believe him, no less handsome. _And fascinating_ , he added, smirking as he pressed his blushing face into the Jotunn’s shoulder. After all, there was only one species in all the Nine that could adapt so well to whatever life through their way.

 _How privileged am I to witness it?!_ he mused, allowing his eyes to close once more, after all, he had a long day ahead and sleep was of the utmost importance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There is a Part 5 in the works, seeing as there is a baby on the way...


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